


Twin Skeletons

by mspaintporn



Category: CrankGameplays - Fandom, Crankiplier - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series), markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Angst, Bladeplay, Blood, Blood Drinking, Chaos, Knives, M/M, Omega Verse, Porn With Plot, References to Drugs, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:53:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27731833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mspaintporn/pseuds/mspaintporn
Summary: Ethan Nestor is a 19 year old omega entering his first year of College. Sin ensues.
Relationships: Dan Howell/PJ Liguori, Dan Howell/Phil Lester, Ethan Nestor/PJ Liguori, Ethan Nestor/Tyler Scheid, Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor
Comments: 18
Kudos: 107





	1. Oh I'm the main attraction.

A new city, a new university. Ethan’s parents move around a lot, but it looks like he’s gonna be stuck in California for at least the duration of his degree. 

He can’t think of one thing he likes about the place, the whole city reeks of capitalism and sin. People openly flaunting everything they have going for them without a hormone suppressant in sight, at least that’s what he’s seen on TV. The very idea makes him want to tip a handful of his meds into his hand and swallow them down. This place is a far cry from the christian retreat he went on during his gap year, but at least he can always carry God with him to protect him.

As he trudges towards the large marble pillars of the university he feels his cross stick to his chest, the sweat under his white button up shirt running down his toned form. Repeating a prayer in his head, he plunders through the automatic doors and braves the front desk.

“H-Hello I’m-”

“Nestor Ethan? You called sweetie, we don’t usually get transfers halfway through the semester,” the woman is warm and her cheeks are pink, red cat-eye glasses framing her smiling face, “we called down a member of the student body to help you find your way around. It’s sort of a buddy system so we picked someone in your class.” Ethan feels the blood leave his face as he spots the brooding figure standing a metre away from him. He’s tall, lean and pale with curtains of curly brown hair and eyes to match.

“Oh honey don’t look so pale, we wouldn’t pair you with an alpha, he’s a beta. He’ll be good to ya, won’t you Daniel?” The woman calls to him in her thick jersey accent and he looks up from his book.

“Yeh yeh, I got this,” he smirks and saunters towards the pair. Ethan holsters his satchel tighter on his shoulder, was there really no omega’s available? Daniel extends a long arm towards him, presenting a graceful hand to be shaken. “Dan Howell, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“I- uh, I’m Ethan,” he gulps out his sentence, a constricted chuckle leaving the taller boy’s lips. 

“Charmed. Thanks for the intro Serene, We’ll get going.” And like that, Dan takes the younger’s hand and whisks them down the hall. The architecture of the building seems archaic, the corridors infinite and all the same shade of brown apart from different coloured lines on the floor to detail what department goes where.

It doesn’t take long before the questions start.

“You came from a Christian college in Virginia huh?” Dan pipes up cutting through the silence of the halls, class already in progress.

“Well, yeah but I’m from Maine originally-”

“Oh, Maine! An omega from Maine… Must’ve been tough growing up there, huh?” Ethan can’t tell if he’s being inquisitive or just plain condescending. It’s probably just his accent.

“I grew up in the brotherhood, you know, church stuff. I’ve never been treated differently by any of the members there,” Ethan doesn’t know how much information to let on, he’s usually cautious when it comes to talking about religion but something about Dan’s presence is non-threatening and soothing. 

“Well it’s good I can be here for you, if any alphas give you flack I’ll take care of them for you. It’s my job as a beta.” He ruffles Ethan’s hair and he blushes. Beta’s take on a forthcoming role in society as a happy medium between alphas and omegas. It’s useful to have one to call his friend, “you’re doing creative writing as a compromise, what did you do before this?”

“I did bible studies at the brotherhood’s college for like 2 weeks before we came here, it wasn’t super inspiring if I’m honest.” Their footsteps slow to a halt before a large oak double door, Dan drawing ever closer to whisper to Ethan.

“Our teacher is an alpha, I just wanted you to know in case that was a problem?” He gazes at Ethan, his hand resting gently on his shoulder. This causes only the slightest of unrest in Ethan’s mind.

“I-I think I’ll be okay, as long as he’s nice.” Dan smiles in response, placing one hand on Ethan’s back and opening one of the doors with the other. The class inside sits silently at the sound of the door opening, the teacher’s neck turning to look at the two. Ethan sheepishly walks in, Dan following.

“Sorry to interrupt Mr. Fischbach, this is Ethan our new recruit.” The teacher’s face goes blank for a moment, “you do remember don’t you? I briefed you on this a couple of days ago-”

“Yes! Oh dear I’m so sorry- Ethan hi!” Mr. Fischbach grins, bearing his sharp teeth as he walks over to Ethan. Alarm bells ring in his head, this is an Alpha in the wild, effortlessly handsome and convincing, “please, would you introduce yourself? When you’re done could you take a seat next to Dan? He prepared a space for you.”

“Uh, hi everyone, I am Ethan… I’m nineteen, I just moved here from the brotherhood in Virginia so please be patient with me, I’m not used to this kind of environment.” His smile shows his cowardice and he bows his head, following Dan to their table. He slumps his satchel on the floor under the desk and sits down in his chair.

“Well isn’t that great? We’re always welcoming of new cultures here, it would be awesome to hear you talk about it some time for the class? No pressure of course.” He returns to his computer, leaning over the counter top. His grey shirt folds and wrinkles around his chest, only half tucked into his belt so that the breeze from his fan can rip up and through his collar. This obviously sends his scent flying through the air, no one else in the room looks like an omega so they don’t care. Ethan unpacks his laptop, his water bottle and his medicine pouch which he unzips immediately. 

“You guys can get on with the annotation task, feel free to talk amongst yourselves. Dan, could you catch our boy up and get him logged into the drive?” Mr. Fischbach nods in his direction and the class erupts back into chatter. Ethan reaches into his pouch and pulls out one of his pills, throwing it back and swallowing it with his water.

“Eth, you’re on suppressants?” Dan raises an eyebrow, his voice hushed.

“Y-Yeah I have been since I was twelve, it just curbs the urges.” He whispers back, urgency in his voice. Dan looks between Ethan and their teacher, an expression of realisation spreading across his lips.

“Ooh I see, well you really shouldn’t worry about that anymore, if someone else sees that they might get the wrong idea…”

“You’re gonna have to elaborate on that.” Ethan scrunches his brow in concern and Dan scoots his chair closer to be nearer to his ear.

“It’s his smell, isn’t it? People will think you’re some kinda nympho if you’re popping pills just to control yourself around an alpha,” his voice is soft and smooth, shivers shooting up Ethan’s spine at just the mention of his scent.

“Okay A, how can I be a nympho if I haven’t ever had sex, and B, I just don’t want to develop a heat, I’ve only had it once when I was a teenager and I don’t want it again.” He faces his laptop, logging in and typing the university’s portal into his browser furiously.

“As soon as we get to the dorms we’re officially starting mission detox, I’ve got a plug you can borrow-” Dan stops talking after seeing the disgusted look on Ethan’s face, “ew okay, it’s one of my starters, I haven’t used it in years it’s been thoroughly sanitised. Plus, it’s probably a good idea that we bring this up to Mr. Fischbach at the end of class so he knows you’re gonna be coming off the pills-”

“I don’t NEED to come off the pills okay? I’ve been on them practically half my life, they just make me act more beta-”

“That’s flawed logic, you’re not a beta, you need to start treating your body with some respect. You’re stunting the growth of your scent glands.” Dan holds his stare defiantly, Ethan finding himself fixated. 

“I-I have my God, I don’t need a mate right now-”

“If you don’t work on this now you won’t ever have one.” Ethan doesn’t reply, reading his login information off of the slip that was left on the table and cracking down on this semester’s reading. At least 10 minutes pass and the tension grows ever stronger by the second.

The bell rings out for lunch, the rest of the students clamouring and stuffing their things back into their bags. Ethan stands up to leave, Dan placing a hand on his thigh and keeping them seated.

As the others file out the room, the two boys remain seated at their desk. Mr. Fischbach peers over the top of his glasses. 

“Ethan, Dan, is there something I can help you with?”


	2. I wanna crush you in my jaws.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan helps Ethan detox. Sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mild smut

The three men sit around Mr. Fischbach’s desk, the toe of Ethan’s converse tapping rhythmically against the dusty wood floor. He exchanges a nervous glance with Dan, signalling him to chime in.

“Uh well, I’m not sure how to breach this topic but figured you should know because you’re our mentor,” Dan starts, restricting himself from blushing. Mr. Fischbach leans forward in his chair, his elbows placed so delicately on the table as he rests his chin against his palm. There is an indescribable yet untapped poise about him and Ethan can’t shake, bordering ever so slightly between intimidating and nurturing. The two younger men watch his every move, their eyes moving in unison as the sleeves of his shirt flutter in the wind of the table fan.

“Please Ethan, you look like something is troubling you, this is a safe space,” he raises his eyebrows, gesturing to Ethan by tilting his head in his direction. 

“I um, I suppose I…” He flubs his words, stuttering as his tongue betrays him, “I-I think I’m considering coming off my hormone suppressants, Dan told me it’s not good seeing as I’ve been on them for the best part of a decade,” Ethan sighs into the air in front of him, Mr. Fischbach sitting bolt upright, a look of surprise replacing his cool demeanour.

“Oh wow, the best part of a decade? Now this is probably some church thing I don’t understand but that doesn’t sound healthy,” he pushes his glasses up on his nose, starting to type loudly on his computer, “I’m just gonna see how I can best support you through this…” The three sit in silence for at least half a minute, disturbed only by the jarring shutter of Mr. Fischbach’s printer. He folds his arms, waiting for his page to render. Swiftly he whips the piece of paper from the surface of the table, reading it from over the top of his spectacles.

“Okay so there’s a checklist of symptoms here ranging from common to severe,” he circles some writing at the bottom of the list, the red marker contrasting with the manilla toned paper, “if you experience any of these ones in the red circle it’s probably not a good idea for you to interact with any alphas for at least a week. Other than that I’ll be mindful of your condition, you two already sit at the front of the classroom so I’ll keep an eye out. If you need to leave at ANY point, do not hesitate,” he slides the paper over to Ethan, giving him a second to read through the diagnosis. He ignores most of the common ones, things that are to be expected, like tunnel vision, increased arousal, shivering and the works. But the severe symptoms are something else. Compulsive sexual tendencies, bloodlust, excessive slick production, voice deepening, violent thoughts. It sounds for the most part like alpha behavior.  
“Daniel, I trust you’ll talk Ethan through the process, this isn’t your first time dealing with something like this,” Dan nods in response and Ethan stuffs the list into his bag, the new roommates rising from their seats.

“Thank you sir, I’ll keep this under control.” Their conduct is foreign to Ethan, an alpha and a beta teaming up to help an omega would never happen in the brotherhood. They kept to their factions apart from during meal times.

“Th-Thank you Mr. Fischbach, I’ll handle this properly,” Ethan bows instinctively, their teacher chuckling and his voice lowering in tone.

“Y’know you really don’t have to do that here, you’re an equal now,” his words rasp deeply in his throat, sending waves down Ethan’s spine as he looks up to make eye contact with the taller man. Instinctively he wants to take one of his pills but he stops his hand from reaching into his bag.

“Sorry, I’m not used to this. Thanks again,” he grins warily, following Dan out the door.

The two move quickly through the campus, the halls emptied already from everyone getting lunch. Ethan doesn’t know where they’re going but he follows anyway, holding his bag close against his hip. 

“What are we doing?”

“We, my friend, are going to the dorm to start your detox,” Dan ruffles his hand through Ethan’s hair, the hall coming to an end and a large field presenting itself to them. Over the stretch of grass in the distance is a tall apartment block that towers over the green, the shadow killing the grass bordering the building. They march persistently to its gate, Dan swiping his card and holding the entrance open for Ethan and closing it behind him.

“Your card is on the table in our room,” Dan informs him, leading him inside. The walls are a sickly yellow, the doors all painted white and flaking off from the wearage. They persist, stopping at the very end of the bottom floor at apartment 112. Swiping his card once again, Dan opens the door to Ethan’s new home.

The room is tidy, the walls a seafoam green. A set of bunks is fixed to the wall, lacquered seamlessly in the same shade. 

“You can take the bottom bunk for now, I think it’ll make it easier.”  
~~~

Some time passes, most of it filled with unpacking clothes and toiletries. Dan put Ethan’s pills away in a drawer filled with toys that he knows Ethan is too scared of. The sun sets outside, casting purple rays through the window and onto the floor where the two sit cross legged facing each other.

“How many of them did you take a day?” Dan whispers, trying to be respectful.

“On a difficult day, maybe eight-”

“EIGHT?!” Dan realises his incompetence, slamming a hand over his mouth. Fortunately this cracks Ethan up. The two of them share a laugh, Ethan already feeling slightly dizzy from the mess of endorphins flooding his brain. His nose and cheeks flush red and he leans forward into his hands, rubbing his eyes, “oh wow, it’s happening huh?”

“M-Mhmm,” Ethan hums into his skin, his hair messy and sticking to his face from the sweat. Dan presses the back of his hand to Ethan’s forehead.

“Do you wanna lie down? You’re warm as fuck,” Dan gets up, getting a glass out of the cupboard and fills it up with water from the sink. Setting it down on the floor in front of him, he watches Ethan grab and down the entire glass in a millisecond. He looks up at Dan towering over him, his pupils blown out and his vision darkened.

“I-I need to pray, like right now,” he shuffles clumsily onto his knees, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off his sweaty skin, revealing his pale back. Dan chuckles nervously as Ethan places his palms onto the floor and mumbles incoherently to the carpet below them.

By some cruel twist of fate, the door creaks open and a lanky figure creeps in. Ethan doesn’t even stop to notice him, his senses too overwhelmed to even care. He can only pay attention to the smooth voice of the stranger.

“Hey Dan- oh christ what’s that smell?”

“Not now PJ, we’re kind of having an emergency,” Dan snaps at the man, Ethan catching sight of a pair of running trainers as they get closer to his body. He sits up, blinking a few times to try and get a better look at him. Dan and supposedly PJ both stand tall, staring bewildered at Ethan. He scrambles to his feet resting his back against the desk for support, feeling extremely vulnerable as he is now shirtless in front of a stranger. An alpha stranger.

“H-Hi I’m Ethan, sorry about… All of this,” he gulps, PJ’s steely gaze narrowing as he draws closer. He moves in, inhaling deep against Ethan’s neck and growling softly. His eyes flutter shut and he licks his lips, Dan thwacking him over the head.

“Ow!” He yelps standing up straight and rubbing the site of assault, Dan dragging him away from Ethan by his arm.

“Ethan, this is my friend PJ-”

“Oh we’re friends huh? I didn’t think we were friends-” Dan wacks him again and he whimpers. Ethan gulps, watching the front of PJ’s tracksuit pants twitch. He doesn’t know if he likes this guy. “Would you stop! Hitting me! How am I meant to act in this situation?!”

“You’re being a creep, isn’t he Eth?” Dan holds PJ against the wall by his arms, contorting his neck awkwardly to look at Ethan.

“I- uh, I don’t know, nothing like this has ever happened to me! Isn’t this how they’re meant to act?” He spits his words artlessly, PJ smirking and Dan pursing his lips as he pins him tighter to the wall.

“Oh baby, you need a real alpha to show you the inner workings,” he breathes through his teeth, Ethan opening his closet and fishing out a white t-shirt. He dresses quickly to try and mask his scent, but he can feel his body betraying him. Beneath his pants his thighs burn, his boxers clinging uncomfortably to his ass and he doesn’t know what to do. All he can do is think of God but it isn’t working, his mind feels plagued by the obvious presence of an alpha in the room.

“Ethan, I am gonna go take PJ back to his room- are you okay to be alone for half an hour or so?” Dan pleads almost, a tone of desperation in his voice as he wrestles PJ out the door and for once Ethan thinks it might be good for him to be alone. 

“Yeah- I’ll just take a shower or something,” he doesn’t have to ask why they’d be gone so long, PJ is in a pitiful state as he stumbles out the door.

As soon as he’s alone he draws the curtains and begins to strip. His hot feet feel alien against the freezing bathroom tiles, his clothes scattered in a trail behind him. He turns the faucet, sliding the shower door behind him and letting the cool water hit him. One problem is immediately apparent. The stream beats down on his sensitive cock as it bounces against the pressure. He’s never really had to deal with an erection before but there’s a first time for everything. Lazily he wraps his fingers around his throbbing member, collapsing his other arm against the wall in front of him and slowly beginning to tug. His mind is racing, a million thoughts surging as his pace quickens. The heat begins to spread up through his stomach and he gasps, water filling his mouth and dribbling out into the drain. He doesn’t know what to think, who to think of, how to make this a satisfying experience but somewhere on the brink of pleasure…

He thinks of Mr. Fischbach. His smell, his clothes, his face, his arms, his tan skin, his glasses, voice, smile, his- oh. Ethan climaxes all over the tiles, stumbling back in abject clarity as he watches his cum wash away as thus the evidence of his sin.

“Oh God, oh Christ oh Jesus, oh-” and he was gonna say it for the first time.

“Fuck!”


	3. Wash away this jetblack feeling.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan braves his teacher after jacking off to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Heavy mentions of blood.  
> Also smut.

Ethan sits at his desk, nose buried in his laptop. He thought if he studied he could take his mind off whatever just happened in the shower but it isn’t working. For every ten or so words he types, he opens a new tab in google to console his overworked brain. His thighs sweat and his freshly washed skin itches against his pyjama bottoms, causing his ass to scoot uncomfortably against his chair.

The door opens, a disheveled Dan tumbling in but thankfully he’s alone this time.

“Ethan! How are you doing buddy?” His words leave his mouth sleepily, his face red and the hem of his shirt askew on his collarbone. Ethan doesn’t know what to tell him first or if he should even bother. Dan clearly had a better time than him.

“I uh- I had a shower,” he turns back to his work, closing his google tabs quickly in an attempt to hide the evidence but Dan draws closer. The smell of PJ lingers on his clothes, his brown eyes half lidded in an intense post-ecstasy stare. 

“Oh, just a shower hmm?” He knows, Ethan knows he knows. Does he also smell? Are his pheromones still airborne? 

He must’ve looked troubled because Dan laughs, not his usual warm laugh but a dry and excitable one. “Oh my god, you came didn’t you?-”

“Christ, I really- I don’t wanna talk about it!” Ethan whines back defensively, shrinking in his seat as Dan pulls the chair over from his desk on the other side of the room. He descends expectantly, leaning to look at Ethan’s laptop screen.

“Mhm, and what are you doing now?” He rests his chin on Ethan’s shoulders, PJ’s residual hormones shooting up his nostrils and activating the reward system in his brain. He loosens up.

“I… Thought about someone,” Ethan mumbles, indulging his cohort who nods and hums receptively.

“Was it me?” Dan wiggles his eyebrows teasingly, Ethan scoffing, “I’m kidding, that didn’t hurt my feelings at all.”

“I can’t tell you, it’s… It’s fucked up.”

“Swearing and masturbating, I’m impressed,” Dan stands up, unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it on the floor. He climbs up to his bunk and lies starfish on his bed, “if you’re not gonna tell me then I’m going to bed. Have fun catching up on the reading.”

~~~

The class sits chatting idly, waiting for their teacher to arrive. Ethan is understandably more nervous than he was on his first day of class, his heat was starting to sink in. Nonetheless he persists, wanting to catch up on the work he missed during his transfer. His clothes fit loosely to prevent the sweat from building up and allowing the air from Mr. Fischbach’s fan to cool him down.

“Sorry- sorry I’m late I know!” Mr. Fischbach comes into the room like a hurricane, slamming his papers on the dask and collapsing into his office chair, “gothic writing conventions! I take it you all did the reading? Yes? Yes, you did?” He spins slowly on his chair, pointing at the uninterested group of young-adults. Ethan flips through his notebook, unzipping his pencil case. It has been said before but it’s ironic how what you’re studying in class always pertains to your life. Whipping a highlighter out of his pencil case, his fingers come across the checklist he printed out last night before heading to sleep. 

“Ethan you look prepared, yeah? You wanna tell us a little… Something something about gothic conventions?” The energy in the classroom is off and he can’t be the only one who senses it, Mr. Fischbach is erratic and makes intense eye contact as if he’s prompting Ethan to give the lecture for him. Ethan turns to face Dan who mockingly matches their teacher’s enthusiasm and kicks the leg of Ethan’s chair. He stands.

“Uh, the anti-hero is a common theme in most Victorian literature, having a protagonist who is unlikable and has little to no heroic quality was a trope often used in greek literature. It’s theorised that the anti-hero and their hamartia made a comeback due to the elements of Neoclassicism that were popular during the early Victorian period.” Ethan looks up from his paper, Mr. Fischbach’s cheeks flushed and a pleased smile creeping across his face. 

“That’s great Ethan, thank you for that wonderful intro,” he taps around on his computer, raising the remote to turn on the projector, “you guys will be glad to hear that we are watching the National Theatre’s production of Frankenstein, I thought it would make for good background noise while you guys crack on with this semester's short stories.” The light of the projector brightens up the antiquated room, a sketchy looking movie website popping up before them.

“In the meantime I will be calling a couple of you guys out for your one-to-one meetings with me about your coursework so far, I’m gonna set up shop in the room next door.” Mr. Fischbach looks down at a piece of paper, “Uhhhhh, Frank!” He gets up out of his chair, gesturing to a boy with scraggly black dyed hair to follow him out the door. 

The play creates an ambience in the room and the other students behind to talk. For some reason this makes Ethan very paranoid and he whispers to Dan, “can you smell me?”

“Only a little, honestly it’s not that bad. What are you gonna write about?” Dan whispers back reassuringly, all the air expelling itself from Ethan’s lungs in a sigh of relief.

“I’m writing about a catholic boy who gets lured in by a disciple of Satan and tricked into performing tasks for the devil,” Ethan says nonchalantly, feeling himself lose sensation in his fingers. He can see that he’s typing but he can’t register it, like the blood in his hands has frozen, “hey Dan?”

“Yeah?” Dan types away on his MacBook that’s way too small for him, his words-per-minutes impressively high.

“I think I’m going numb, is this normal-”

“Ethan?!” Frank shouts from the door, slumping back down in his seat, ‘he wants you.” Ethan gulps, standing and tucking in his chair and Dan worries. But still Ethan leaves the room disoriented and with the numbness spreading throughout him whilst a fire flows through his veins. He leans against the wall outside the next room for support, a wet patch forming in his boxers beneath his cheeks. He can do this, he just has to get through this class. He braves forward, opening the door to the room where Mr. Fischbach is sitting.

“Ethan, I thought it would be a good idea if I spoke to you for a bit seeing as you’re new, please sit next to me,” Ethan shuts the door behind him and sits next to his teacher in front of the computer. 

Mr. Fischbach instantly reacts, his eyes fluttering shut as he breathes slowly, “s-sorry, I’m feeling kinda-” he doesn’t finish his sentence, opening his eyes to reveal his shrunken pupils. He leans in closer, trying to smell Ethan better which doesn’t help.

“I’m sorry, maybe I should’ve stayed in my room today”

“No! No.” He realises his tone and his actions, placing a hand on Ethan’s shoulder to try and sooth him, “it’s not your fault, let’s just work through this, yeah?” He looks rattled, his other hand gripping the mouse of the computer. The plastic pops out of its seams, the mouse disassembling itself. Ethan flinches, his teacher cursing under his breath as shards of plastic carve into his calloused skin. Blood fills the remaining interior of the mouse, soaking the circuit board and all its components. Mr. Fischbach removes his hand from Ethan’s shoulder, gripping his wrist to slow the blood flow. 

Blood. Oh god the blood. 

“S-Sir, please let me look at that,” Ethan says softly to the alpha, extending a delicate hand out to cradle the underside of his teacher’s. And he obliges, removing his other hand from his wrist and allowing the younger to get a better look. Ethan uses his thumb to pull the wound apart gently, looking closer into it to see how deep it runs. More blood fills the wound.

He has to do this.

He lowers his head, his tongue tracing the wound and the salty warm coating his tongue. He’s tasting an alpha for the first time, and he’s skipped a few steps. He’s not just tasting his spit or his cum, he’s drinking his blood. Mr. Fischbach shudders as he lets Ethan clean his wound, his soft tongue lapping up the blood as fast as it regenerates. 

“Eth- oh, you didn’t have to- mngh,” he growls low in his throat, the smell of Ethan being so close overwhelming him. The blood runs down his throat, bringing him alive from the inside. The numbness is gone, replaced only by an insatiable lust that grows the more he tastes his teacher. 

Mr. Fischbach rips his hand away, blood smearing down Ethan’s lips and chin. He stands over the younger boy as he remains seated in his chair.

“Stand.” Ethan obeys, Mr. Fischbach quickly pinning him to the table by his wrists, “you’re acting like a slut. Now I know you’re not a slut because you’re so clearly a virgin. Which is it Ethan? Are you a good little church boy or are you a slut?” He spits his words through gritted teeth, the smell of rut permeating Ethan’s lungs. 

“Oh Lord- oh Jesus p-please give me strength when I am weak, love when I feel… F-Forsaken…” Ethan prays under his breath as Mr. Fischbach undresses him, his bloody hands fumbling over the tiny buttons on his pants to reveal his damp boxers. They cage his erection, his cock swinging under the fabric as Mr. Fischbach disturbs his body to pull the pants down around his ankles. 

“Is this what you’ve been hiding?” He presses his forehead to Ethan’s, his unharmed hand sliding down the front of his underwear. He caresses his hard dick inside his boxers, Ethan tilts his head back and it hits the table with a soft thud.

“Oh god touch me, please Mark,” Ethan scrunches his eyes shut, realising he’s made a mistake. His teacher laughs breathily.

“You pervert, you googled me didn’t you?” Mark wraps a fist around Ethan’s cock, pulling on him slowly, “you’ve been thinking about me, huh?”

“A-Ah, it’s not like that-”

“Yes it is, don’t lie to me.” He grunts back defiantly, watching Ethan writhe in pleasure as he speeds up his pumps, “your first day off your pills and you thought about me? You’re already ruined.” He plunges his hand lower into his boxers, feeling the buildup of slick surrounding the ring of his asshole. He pushes a finger in gently, Ethan bucking his hips and beginning to fuck himself on his teacher’s hand. 

“M-Mark,” his face relaxes as he moans out, “I-I’m begging y-you, fuck me-” Mark places his bleeding hand over Ethan’s mouth, letting him taste the fresh pain seeping from his palm.

“I’m not gonna fuck you, just shut up and cum,” he instructs and Ethan groans into his hand, his functions depleting the more he loses himself. He feels the pressure build in his stomach, Mark inserting another finger and pressing the two digits onto Ethan’s prostate. He watches smugly as Ethan squeals against his skin, his slim legs wrapping around Mark’s waist so he can pleasure himself better. 

“Mmph-” Ethan’s eyes roll into his skull, his hips jutting irregularly and slowing to a stop as he fills his boxers with cum. Mark removes his hand from his underwear, Ethan’s muscles closing back up in the absence of his fingers. 

“Jesus, Ethan,” Mark looks panickedly at his glazed hand, then at his bloody hand, and finally at the half undressed man lying on the table with a mouth full of blood, “shit- this was a bad idea, I shouldn’t have done that, I’m gonna be in so-”

“I-I won’t tell anyone.” Ethan’s chest heaves, his speech garbled from the coating on his tongue and the post orgasm haze. Mr. Fischbach goes to push his hair out of his face, but becomes more flustered at the sight of both of his hands being soiled. 

“Shit! Fuck!” Mr. Fischbach paces around before spotting the box of tissues on the bookshelf. He pulls out at least half the box, frantically cleaning the blood and cum off his hands whilst Ethan savours the taste. 

It’s smooth and metallic, sweet but salty but what he likes about it most of all is that:

It’s his teacher’s.


	4. Tear the skin right off our bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan vanishes and Ethan gets an unexpected visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: knives, blood, injury, blade play   
> Also PORN  
> This is a long chapter

It’s gone too far already.

He sits on the edge of the desk as he watches Mark viciously scrub his bloody hand with antibacterial wipes, the artificial lemon scent hanging low in the air. It’s not like Ethan can’t still smell it though, to him it smells like metal and vanilla, like fresh baked cookies and rusty nails.

“You need to clean yourself up and get the fuck out of here,” Mr. Fischbach keeps talking, his hands waving about in panic as his brogues clack on the floor. He watches his ankles as his pants lift and fold with every step, his eyes trailing up the leg and past the seam running across his knee. It doesn’t take him long before he’s staring at the bulge in his brown chinos- “are you listening to me? God your shirt, you’re covered in blood.” He gets closer, talking directly at him. Frantically he rips his sweater off, tossing it at Ethan.

“Put this on and go get your shit.” He throws the used wipe at Ethan, folding his arms impatiently. Ethan stuffs it down his boxers, trying to soak up as much cum as he can. The alcohol of the wipe stings his sensitive cock and before he knows it he’s hard again, but still he redresses and ties his cardigan around his waist, “look at me quick.” Mr. Fischbach looks inquisitively into his eyes and then stands back displeased, “your pupils are huge, just don’t make eye contact with anyone.”

It’s over like that, Ethan leaves and goes back to the classroom and back to Dan. The play is still on although there’s not much time left in class. Dan’s face is illuminated by his phone screen and he’s clearly not watching the play, or even paying attention to Ethan who is standing awkwardly in the doorway. He scrambles over to his desk, packing his stuff up as fast as he can. 

“D-Dan, we need to get out of here,” and he doesn’t really have to be told twice. He slides his laptop into his backpack and the two of them book it. 

“What the fuck? What’s going on?” The two walk closely in the empty halls, Ethan trembling underneath his teacher’s sweater. Mr. Fischbach leaves the spare classroom, making brief eye contact with the two boys. Venom drips from his stare but he knows he can’t say anything in front of Dan. 

“Ethan!” He calls out gruffly and the two stop in their tracks. Ethan turns around slowly to face him. 

“Y-Yes, Mr. Fischbach?” Mark hesitates, not really sure how to ensure Ethan’s silence. He opens his mouth to speak, no words coming out so he walks closer to him and speaks softly into his hair. 

“It’s dry clean only, just- bring it back. Discreetly, when you can.” He pats Ethan on the shoulder innocuously and pulls away casually.

They’re doomed. Dan knows everything already. They probably reek of sin. 

Ethan’s pace quickens and for once he’s walking faster than Dan, who’s steps pat behind him.

“I-I’m sorry, were you gonna explain that to me?!” As soon as they get out of the building Dan chases him up, pulling him closer by his arm. 

“L-Look I really don’t know if I should talk-“

“You are wearing his sweater, what happened to you?!” Dan’s brow furrows in concern, the omega masking as an alpha not slowing once and forcing the two of them to keep moving forward. It’s clear that Ethan is angry or at least occupied with something, but Dan can’t read him. By the time they get to the dorms both of them are equally frustrated. Dan slams the door behind them and locks it, moving in on Ethan like a hawk as he stands in the middle of the small room. He sniffs deeply and Ethan let’s his book bag hit the ground. Dan lifts the oversized sweater off of Ethan, revealing his half soaked pants and bloodied shirt. 

“Blood!”

“Yes-”

“Blood, why are you covered in blood?” Dan turns pale, wiping the dark hair out of his sweaty face, “what the fuck happened in that empty classroom-”

“Nothing! He- he cut his hand and- and I did what I always do when a member of my pack is injured-”

“Oh my god, Ethan you can’t do that! Not with him, not now, not ever, okay?!” Dan is furious, for some reason this has touched a nerve.

“I just helped him, what’s the big deal?!-”

“Oh yeah! It clearly helped a lot, look at you!” Dan points down at the wet patch and Ethan shuffles awkwardly, “you can’t just go around tasting the blood of alphas, you’re gonna fuck up your head.” Dan grabs his arm again, his boney grip somehow reassuring.

“Dan I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do, he was right there,” Ethan turns redder, as if that were somehow possible. Dan’s expression softens in realisation that he’s scared his friend. He pulls him by the arm into an embrace, resting his chin on his head. 

“It’ll be okay,” he strokes the back of the quivering boy and in return Ethan buries his face in Dan’s sweater, “I’m sorry I yelled at you, I don’t want you to get hurt.” Dan kisses the top of his head and Ethan wants to stay there, wrapped up in this hug for the rest of the night. It’s the only time his mind has stopped racing all day.

There’s a knock on the door. 

“Shit!” Dan releases him, pushing him into the bathroom, “shower! You can’t be see looking like this-” he picks the sweater up off of the floor, handing it back to Ethan. 

“It’s just PJ right?”

“No, it’s not. Go!” Dan locks the door from the outside. That’s odd. Ethan starts the shower and waiting for it to warm up he inspects the room. He’s not sure why he hasn’t noticed it before but there’s a cupboard under the sink, it’s locked though. He kicks it firmly with the toe of his shoe and it springs open, the contents coated with dusk. Running his fingers along the self he rummages through the contents, old yellowed pill bottles and empty shampoo. He reaches further past the trash, something cold against his skin and there it is, a brand new utility knife.

Placing it on the counter he shuts the cupboard again, pushing it so that the dull lock clicks. Through the noise of the running water he hears a deep voice, way too deep to be PJ. It booms through the thin wood separating them, Dan’s voice merely humming in comparison. Ethan knows it’s intense whatever’s going on. 

He undresses quickly, releasing his sticky skin from his clothes and holds Mark’s jumper to his naked body, burying his face in the soft wool. With every inhale of the fragrance he can feel his brain rotting, his stomach churning and twitching against his toned muscles. Come to think of it, he hasn’t showered since he masturbated to Mr. Fischbach and the smell of his body overwhelms him. He hangs it up on the towel rail and goes to hide in the shower. Sliding his back down the wall he sits on the shower floor, letting the water hit him from a height. It scorches his raw body, purifying him of his prior sins. Mark’s blood washes off his lips, the iron flavour diminishing. He pours a dollop of scent blocking shampoo into his hand, lathering it into his hair and quickly rinsing it out. It’ll hardly make a difference, most of these things are gimmicks anyway. The suds flow down and drip off Ethan’s cross necklace. 

Barely through the sound of the stream, he hears the voices stop and the door unlock. He takes that as his cue to stop showering. Shutting off the water, he tiptoes onto the cold tiles and wraps a large towel around himself. Hesitating for a minute, he picks the utility knife up and tucks it inside the sweater, which he carries out with him into the empty bedroom. 

Dan is nowhere to be seen, he didn’t even leave a note. He towels himself briskly, going into the closet and pulling on a pair of boxers and pants. It’s too tempting, he puts the sweater over his bare chest and places the knife inside his pants pocket. 

There’s a knock at the door again. It can’t be Dan because he has his own card. Cringing at the sensation of his wet feet on the carpet, he opens the door to reveal PJ standing there in his well worn track and field uniform. 

“PJ, Dan’s not here.” He goes to close the door, PJ shoving his foot in the way like a movie villain. 

“I know he’s not. I’m here for you,” he invites himself in, barging past Ethan and shutting the door. He, like Dan had previously, starts sniffing Ethan, “that’s not your smell.” He smiles suspiciously, his dangerously sharp teeth glinting. The younger gulps, his cheeks flushing red and his already large pupils losing focus. 

“Y-You’d be right.”

“Of course, church boys are notoriously slutty. You’ve been fucking.” 

“Well, no not technically,” he shuffles back awkwardly, PJ’s face only getting closer to his neck. 

“Does Dan know, that you’ve been fucking an older man-“

“I didn’t fuck him but to answer your question, no. Dan does not know that I’ve messed around with someone,” Ethan tries to step away once more, his back hitting the wall, “how did you know he was older?” PJ chuckles dryly, biting his bottom lip and in the process his pointy teeth snagging in skin. A thin bead of blood forms and he smiles wider. Ethan can smell it already, his entire body tensing as he catches sight of the bright red droplet. 

“Go on,” PJ teases, lowering his head to Ethan’s level. They hold their gaze for a moment, Ethan’s eyes darting between his eyes and his lips. 

“I-I can’t, Dan said I can’t…” His voice is pained, rattling meekly. PJ wedges his knee between Ethan’s thighs and he shudders, his erection being nursed through the multiple layers of fabric. 

“Dan’s not here.” 

Ethan grips PJ by his nape, his fingers raking through his hair as he connects their lips. He can’t stop himself, his tongue lapping up the tiny amount of blood that’s there. He doesn’t understand why PJ knows these things, knows why he wants this. He sucks on his bottom lip, feeding more on the giant man. PJ picks him up by his waist, Ethan wrapping his legs around him for support. 

PJ pauses for a second, feeling something hard against his lower ribs. Too hard to be a cock. Whilst breaking their kiss he reaches into Ethan’s pocket, still supporting his back with one hand. He retrieves the knife, inspecting it and looking back at Ethan who turns pale in response. 

“Ooh, I see.”

“PJ-“

“You’re getting the right idea now.” PJ puts him down, pulling his shirt up over his head to reveal his chiselled body. He flips the blade open, Ethan panicking internally. That is, until PJ hands the knife back to him.

“Ah- why?” He stutters, PJ laughing hysterically. So much so that tears form in his eyes. He bites down on his knuckles, suppressing himself. 

“Do it! I know you want to…” He jeers in a singsong tone, his eyes wide and his pupils as small as the head of a pin. He gently holds Ethan’s wrist, guiding the blade so that it just lightly touches his ribs. 

“PJ, I don’t know if I can,” his voice waivers, fixated on the metal. He presses so slightly, PJ moaning softly. 

“Mmm,” He tilts his chin down, his hair covering his eyes so only his nose and mouth are visible. He laughs again to himself as a ribbon of blood slides down his abs. Ethan breathes raggedly, his hardon screaming inside his pants. He faces the ceiling, scrunching his eyes shut. 

“G-God please, protect me- cleanse me of these v-violent thoughts-“ PJ dips his finger in the blood, running it across Ethan’s nose as he prays, “by the power of… Y-Your Holy Spirit, convict those… Who have allowed me to be e-exposed to evil…” He tries to continue but it trickles down onto his top lip, entering his mouth. 

“Don’t you see it Ethan?” PJ pushes down on his victim’s shoulders and he kneels before him, looking up at PJ, “this is the life your god chose for you.” Ethan breathes heavily, his thoughts clouded by his natural instinct. The ceiling light shines down on PJ, illuminating him from behind like some sort of Michelangelo painting. He reaches up and touches the wound. The alpha is hurt, it’s his job to tend to him. 

“L-Let me clean you…” PJ lies down on the floor, Ethan crawling on top of him and licking his skin. He goes slow, savouring the taste. There’s no shortage, the cut refills just as fast as he drinks it but he wants to be gentle. He wants to feel holy. His saliva mixes with the blood, cleaning the source and PJ growls at the stinging sensation. His cock hardens in front of Ethan and he goes to pull down his sweatpants while the smaller boy feeds. He wraps a fist around his throbbing manhood, Ethan jolting upright with a red stained face as he sits on his thighs.

This is his first time seeing an alpha’s dick. He’s huge, dark veins rippling throughout his taut skin. It shines with precum, PJ caressing it so that Ethan can see properly. 

“Are you impressed?” 

Something flips. Ethan slides down his body without warning, his bloody mouth engulfing the tip of PJ’s cock who in return sits up. Ethan doesn’t notice, his ears roar with the pressure building in his brain and he bobs his head up and down. Hot air escapes his nose, the blood lubricating his lips. His thoughts are buried inside somewhere, like he’s watching himself sin from a window but he can’t stop himself. He has an inbuilt script, programmed to please and to serve, to clean and satisfy his alpha. 

“F-Fuck, you’re a good boy,” PJ moans, tugging on Ethan’s hair as his cheeks hollow. Ethan pushes his head down further, his throat contracting to fit PJ’s length. The taste is transcendental, endorphins rushing through his every cell. Like everything he’d been holding back all those years was finally coming to the surface. He unbuttons his pants, shuffling them down along with his boxers and grabs his own erection. PJ pants, drinking in the sight of the smaller boy undressing. He pushes him off, crawling on top of him. 

The dirty carpet underneath him, the feverish alpha on top of him, Ethan doesn’t even care. He needs to do this, it feels holy to him. It’s ritualistic. His hole is already prepped from Mark playing with him earlier, PJ slipping a finger down there to assess the amount of slick there is. 

“You wanna do this? Right here on the floor?” There’s a tone of menace in the elder’s voice, Ethan too intoxicated by his hormones to care. He leans up, his lips touching PJ’s jaw. He’s drenched in a thin layer of sweat, his green eyes fluttering shut as Ethan marks and bruises him.

“C’mon Peej, do it…” Ethan stretches his knees apart, exposing himself fully. His skin glistens and PJ aligns himself. 

“You’re a whore inside, aren’t you? That’s why he sent me here,” he pushes his tip against Ethan’s entrance, watching him quiver. 

“A-Ahh, who?” He tries to speak, his words slurred and strained. 

“You know who,” he slides more of himself into Ethan, his hands slipping up Mark’s sweater. His finger stops at the cross, hooking around the chain.

“M-Mr. Fischbach?” Ethan winces, PJ pulling him closer by the necklace. Their chests press together, PJ’s fresh blood smearing on the sweater. 

“Bingo…” His hips lower, his full length now inside Ethan. He’s feeling a mixture of emotions now, Mark wanted him out of his hair so badly that he sent PJ to come and fuck him. His heart races, the chain cutting into the delicate flesh on the sides of his neck. His loins burn, his cock pressed against PJ’s abs. He wants to talk more but he can’t, everything is too overwhelming. So he just wraps his arms around PJ’s neck and his legs around his ribs, pushing him firmly inside him. 

“J-Jesus,” he tries tilting his head back but PJ kisses him, not a sloppy kiss like before but this time passionately. It’s so convincing, he even closes his eyes. His hands loosen from the cross, sliding further up the sweater to cradle the back of Ethan’s neck. PJ starts to thrust, their tongues tangling as they share the taste of blood. Ethan moans into his mouth, eyelids drooping as he’s fucked. This was something he’d never experienced before, his brain being overridden by pure ego. The fact that someone could find him attractive, or want to fuck him on his own bedroom floor was so far out of the realm of his own imagination.

“You’re so excited,” PJ mumbles into his lips and Ethan can feel the smirk. It’s like he’s a mind reader, the closer they get and the more they explore each other the more PJ seems to know about him- the more he seems to actually care. They hold one another tightly, their sweaty foreheads adhered. 

“F-Faster!” Ethan can’t believe himself. What kind of person has he become? Is he the sort of person who sleeps with the first alpha who asks? Is this the life he would’ve lived had he never been in the brotherhood? All these thoughts, all these questions create a shameful tornado of sensations before turning white and fizzling out. PJ obliges, tucking his knees into the floor and moving his hips in a hypnotic rhythm. He’s a real living piece of machinery and briefly in the throws of ecstasy he’s even beautiful. He holds Ethan like he’s an Angel, like he’s broken china being held together only by his arms. And even PJ begins to crack. 

“T-Tell me… If it’s too much…” He stutters into Ethan’s hair, his hot cheeks radiant and gleaming in the fluorescent light of the small room. Ethan wants the room to be even smaller, he wants them pressed up like a knot of limbs and torsos. 

“G-Give it all to me-“ Ethan chokes on his words, PJ faltering. 

“If- you don’t want that-“ he almost seems like he considers it, but it’s replaced with denial. 

“Why?” Ethan can only gasp, his morals crumbling. 

“I-I’d knot you- you don’t need that, we don’t need it!” He speaks through gritted teeth, their skin slapping together whilst all of this dialogue is happening. 

“J-Just pull out-“

“It doesn’t… Work like that… Ah-“ PJ straightens his arms, his body elongating. His neck is beautiful, so smooth and well toned. The more effort he exerts, the more Ethan can see a specific vein bulge out. It’s hard to even see anything anymore, vision so obscured by just. He wonders if he can ever go back to the way he was before. 

“Y-You’re so pretty,” Ethan feels himself smile as his muscles clench. It’s about to happen. 

“Ohh- oh my god Ethan, I’m so…” PJ can’t even speak or think, the two of them physically and mentally redundant for the fifteen minutes they spend intertwined. Ethan can’t respond, only whimpers and pathetic slurred words spill from his throat. The movement’s sputter and jerk to a halt, PJ’s hips springing back as streams erupt from his dick. He paints the younger boy and the sweater, both of them heaving and twitching. Ethan’s a little delayed but it’s processing, half a second later he follows, ruining PJ’s chest. They stay like that for a moment, unable to function or even look at each other in the eye. 

The atmosphere is tense, PJ clearly didn’t mean to get so carried away. He stands, his legs wobbly and unstable. 

“Eth, we… We should talk about this,” Ethan slides his back up the wall, completely scarlet from head to toe, “I-I’m sorry about Mark, I didn’t mean for it to come out like this.”

Mark, he doesn’t even want to fathom him right now. It’s bitter of course, but he can’t say he feels used. PJ tended to him well. 

“Don’t worry,” Ethan looks up at PJ who’s endlessly tall, propping himself up on the desk. His arms and legs look disjointed, like a sculpture from a museum. There’s such a weightless handsomeness to him that he couldn’t notice prior, too distracted by the horny comments and the sharp teeth. A scab forms nearly just under his pec, not dark enough to scar.

“Would you maybe, want to take a trip to the dry cleaners?” The dry cleaners? Ethan looks down. 

Oh yeah. 

~~~

The two stand awkwardly, surrounded by quarter powered washers and dryers. PJ is wearing Dan’s clothes, fiddling with the neck of the black shirt he has on. They haven’t spoken a word since the walk there. 

There’s silence, the sun is setting and the only thing they can hear is the buzzing and clicking sounds of the neon sign or the rogue car whooshing past. 

There’s a lady behind the desk, scrubbing gently at the various stains on the sweater. Note to self: don’t fuck wearing cashmere. The forest green and navy blue argyle mat together, the woman picking out the knots with a fine tooth comb. It feels like they’ll be there for a while. 

“Do you wanna talk about it yet?”

“PJ, I told you. It’s fine.” Ethan chews on the skin inside his cheek. He’s a bit upset that Mr. Fischbach’s smell will be gone from the sweater. 

“No it’s not, I feel like a piece of shit.”

“What, for a change?” Ethan raises an eyebrow, slumping down on the bench between the aisles. PJ sits next to him, his knees widening in a casual and totally not annoying way. 

“I didn’t mean for us to go that far, I just- I got so lost in you,” PJ turns to face him, finding Ethan looking back at him with watery blue eyes, “that’s never happened with Dan.”

Dan. Ethan feels sour. 

“Then what’s the deal with you and Dan?” He sighs, playing with a button on his cardigan. 

“Honestly? I’m a friend of his boyfriend’s. We fucked out of convenience whilst he was studying abroad for a semester. He came back, but we kind of didn’t stop.” PJ sounds ashamed, it’s the first shred of true emotion he’s heard from the guy. 

“I didn’t even know he had a boyfriend, there was someone else in the room with us earlier but I didn’t see him face,” he could really use a milkshake right now. Something about laundromats makes him hungry, “why did you do it?”

“It’s- well it’s not that complicated. Dan’s boyfriend is a beta like him. They have an intense romantic connection but it’s less than fireworks in the bedroom. It’s not that they’re incompatible, because I’ve never seen two people who look so perfect for each other…”

“But?”

“But they’ve been going out for so long, I wonder if they stay together because it’s easier. I went into a rut while we were chilling it and he decided in the moment maybe if we… Slept together it would help him make a decision.”

“It obviously didn’t I’m guessing.” 

“No, they stayed together and we keep fucking. I feel horrible and so does he, he’s so terrified of Phil finding out.” Ethan didn’t know anything about this Phil guy, but he already felt sorry for him. No wonder Dan was keeping so many secrets from Ethan, he doesn’t even know if he can trust him yet. Maybe it was a good idea to fuck PJ after all, to give Dan some space away from an available alpha. 

The lady at the desk rings the bell, both boys standing in unison and inspecting her handy work. It’s immaculate, not a stain in sight. Ethan pulls out his wallet, PJ stopping him and brandishing a credit card. 

“Thank you for your patience madam, I’ll cover it. Is a fifteen percent tip okay?” He dials into the card machine, the lady blushing. 

“Well, yes. Thank you, sir.” She smiles nervously, PJ flourishing his pointy smile once more and tearing the receipt off the top. He picks up the carefully wrapped garment and the two of them turn their heel and walk out. 

“PJ, has anyone ever told you that you do this thing?”

“What thing?” They step into the crisp evening air, the cold biting their noses as they head back to the dorms. 

“Well you’re very charming, and I really appreciate what you did for me in there… But you have a really creepy smile.” PJ coughs, clearly taken aback by this comment. 

“Come again?”

“Well you’re a nice guy, but your teeth are so sharp. And when you smile, you don’t use your eyes. It sort of made you look like you were about to eat that poor lady.”

PJ smiled once more. What a funny joke.


	5. The Dancer becomes the Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang goes to a party, shit + fan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw/ mentions of drugs   
> This chapter took forever to write and idk if I’m happy with it

“Comparatively,” PJ mumbles over the mouthful of macaroni salad, “out of all of the things on earth, human flesh is very soft. Like if you had a steak, you can guarantee that there’s gonna be some gristle or sinew in there.” Ethan had only asked him why he likes to be hurt, or even why he likes hurting people, “every cut of meat that’s offered to you is preselected, you don’t really know where it’s been, what life it’s lived. But if you’re fighting someone face to face, you know. You can tell by looking at them.” His thin lips curl upwards at the edges as he pushes his food around with his fork, separating the bacon bits from the pasta in his salad. 

“That doesn’t really explain anything, now I just think you’re a cannibal.” he sighs. The diner is quiet, the laundromat where that terrified woman works just a stone’s throw away. Ethan scrunches his face up in pain, his chocolate milkshake going straight to his head. He thought he was in a milkshake mood but now that he has one he feels gross. His body feels uncomfortable and lax, his muscles weak and limber from taking such a pounding and the lactose is making it worse. He’s just glad his heat has subsided for the time being. 

“I wonder how much fat there is in this,” PJ holds up his fork, the sauce on the piece of pasta glistening in the overhead light. It’s one of those strange pendulum lights that dangles from a chord, cloaking their booth in an artificial pink. 

“Why’d you order something fatty?” Ethan prods at his fries, not really hungry. 

“I crave high energy food after sex, it’s an evolutionarily thing, I think,” he doesn’t sound sure, his green eyes narrowing. He picks up the cherry from his root beer float, biting the sugary fruit and crushing it in his jaws. His lips stain, a droplet of juice settling on his skin. 

Ethan is overthinking about everything. 

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Being creepy! You’re always so creepy,” Ethan’s ears burn and PJ can tell this is really bothering him. 

“We’re all creepy to you,” he leans forward, resting his chin on his wrist. 

“Mark isn’t creepy…”

“It wasn’t creepy when he fingered you?” Ethan’s stomach churns at just the mention of the incident. 

“N-No it wasn’t, it was…” He stops to think. 

“Was… What? Don’t kid yourself Ethan. What could he possibly want from you?”

“It felt right, I don’t know… It clicked,” he dips a fry into his ketchup, the sweet saltiness coating his tongue. “I wish he didn’t regret it.”

“It’s not a regret thing, it just can’t happen.”

“What and it can happen with you, my roommate’s side piece?” Ouch, even PJ bristles at that. He places his palms down firmly on the table, his cutlery jingling from the force. Dusk hangs low outside the windows, filling the space with a clumsy stillness. Through the fog it looks like it stretches out endlessly, the sun hiding right on the other side of the thickness of it all.

“I am no one’s side piece, that’s useless to me Ethan. I can’t just have or fuck one person, what is the point? What danger is there in that? This is a matter purely for biology, I do what I need to do to survive and then we shake hands, okay?” 

Someone’s footsteps tap on the checkerboard floor, getting louder and closer. 

“There you are!” Dan stands defiantly at the opening of the booth, “PJ, you’re wearing my shirt.” The bruise peaks out from the hem of the turtleneck, that question answers itself. He looks furious. 

He sits down next to PJ, forcing him to shuffle over and leans forward with a seriousness. 

“Ethan, are you brain dead?” His words are slurred but hushed, Ethan’s eyes darting between him and PJ. 

“What’s the problem? He’s not yours,” he chews on his straw, Dan sniffling and wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve. It keeps running, his philtrum glazing over with something wet and thin. 

“Lay off Dan, you’re not his keeper. You ditched him to go do whatever with Phil.”

“Yeah you left in such a hurry, I wasn’t sure what I was meant to do.” The two men look at Dan who’s attitude seems off. He’s edgy and shifty, his sleeves pulled over his hands and already stained with snot, “have you been crying?” He swipes the damp away artlessly, snorting and readjusting his posture. 

“I don’t cry, don’t be ridiculous. I just got off my face a bit, things are messy,” he tries scoff, his throat tight and sore, “it’s my own fault, I have no doubt that you’ve caught Ethan up to speed…” He starts picking at the fries with him, his snot running into the bite. 

“Oh Dan, I’m sorry,” the pair try to console him, Dan holding his head in his hands. 

“It’s just, it’s all fucked up Peej. I don’t know if I can be bothered to care anymore.”

“It’s been fucked up for a while, yeah? You can’t keep lying to each other,” PJ blots Dan’s lip with a napkin. It’s weird seeing him so numb to the world, today he’s been a wreck. Ethan usually relies on him to be level headed but things must be really messed up, “I mean you’re both betas, not everything can be perfect.”

“What’s the point if it’s not perfect? I don’t want subpar, I deserve better.” Dan falters, shoving more starch into his face. That’s when he notices Dan’s hands are shaking, sweat is beading on his forehead. 

“Dan?” He looks up, eyes red and puffy but most of all huge. His eyes look huge, “where did you come from?”

“Oh uh- there’s a party, Phil and I went… It’s on the second floor.” PJ stands up immediately after hearing this. 

“Let’s sort this out then.”

The three walk single file down the narrow hallway, music thumping through the walls. Looking quite sick, Dan leans against PJ who supports him by throwing an arm around him. Ethan walks ahead of them, locating the party by sound alone. He can feel the energy of a hundred dancing student’s through the floorboards of the entrance to the apartment, rattling a bony fist against the door. 

It creaks open but no one is there, instead the mouth of the apartment is displayed. Ethan enters, PJ and an intoxicated Dan stumbling behind him. 

His head pounds, it feels like his brain is pressing against his skull. It pulsates and spasms just from the smell of so many people in one place. Each individual heartbeat rings in his sensitive ears, like a gun being fired underwater. 

“Phil?” He cautiously pushes his way through the crowd. He doesn’t even know what this guy looks like. PJ and Dan remain by the entrance, neither of them looking particularly well. Still Ethan braves on, walking into the living room.

“Is there a Phil here?” He calls blankly into the room. 

“Who are you?” A voice replies. Ethan follows it, a disheveled man sinking into the centre of the sofa. He has people on either side of him who both also turn to look at Ethan, still they remain magnetised to this man. Though they’re sat down, their icy stares overpower the small omega. The man in the middle looks a bit like Dan. He has a similar haircut and build, he’s wearing a dark button up shirt that’s slightly undone. Unexpectedly he rises, looming over the tall boy and there’s a certain spark in his eye that means danger. A smirk spreads across his face, his tongue poking out to one side. 

“You’re Phil?” Ethan cowers, stepping back slightly. The man who is supposedly Phil laughs dryly in the back of his throat, bending slightly so that their face to face. 

“I’m gonna ask again, who are you?” He pokes Ethan’s chest, making him swallow hard in fear. 

“I-I’m Ethan, pleased to meet you-“

“Oh so you’re Ethan. Why are you so pleased?” He jeers, a whiff of liquor hitting Ethan in the face. 

“I’m not- I mean I am! It’s just- I think your boyfriend is about to throw up on my friend,” Phil stands back at his normal height, folding his arms in protest and showing Ethan the side of his face. He’s so perfectly pale, like alabaster. His blue eyes shut and he sighs. 

“Which friend.” It’s not even a question, he’s pissed and he already knows which friend. Ethan doesn’t know if he’s meant to reply, this man is extremely intimidating. As if by clockwork, PJ tumbles into the room and onto the centre of the dance floor. Who knew dorms could be big enough to have a dance floor? 

He has this crazed look, standing out like a skyscraper over the crowd of smaller students. He’s a mess of curls and wind burnt cheeks but still he does this strange intoxicating dance. Slowly his limbs move through the air like a snake with such confusing grace, completely in his element. Phil cuts through the team of partygoers, grabbing PJ by the cuff of his sleeve. 

“This is Dan’s shirt.” He speaks at a normal volume but still his words stick. Ethan scoots closer to moderate. 

“How observant!” PJ yells still dancing with Phil dangling off of him like a manacle, “let go dude, you’re harshing my mellow!” 

“You need to be put down PJ. You can’t control yourself can you? You’re pathetic.” They’re equal in stature but Phil seems to stand taller, long and elegant like a willow tree. The comment doesn’t hurt PJ, at least it doesn’t look like it did from Ethan’s perspective. Instead the fuel burning in PJ’s stomach grows, a sneer presenting itself to Phil. 

“You think you’re so great Phil. If you were actually, maybe I’d suck your dick too-“ Phil clips him across the jaw, tearing his knuckles up on PJ’s sharp teeth. Phil recoils and winces, standing still and nursing his wounds. “Now that! That’s great Phil, that’s really great.”

Ethan glides between the two, feeling more like a hurdle than a blockade, “whatever feud you have, squash it. We need to find Dan. How’d you lose him anyway?” Looks of contempt are exchanged, PJ clutching his irritated bottom lip.

“He… Went to the bathroom.”

Phil rushes past them, leaving the others to trail behind them. PJ smacks the wooden bathroom door with his palm, shaking his oozing hand all over the place and splattering his surroundings with crour. 

“Dan! Open this fucking door, I’m not playing this game anymore!” 

No answer. Stepping in the way, PJ produces a coin from his pocket and unlocks the doorknob via the divot in the lock. Combined with Phil’s slamming, it swings wide open. 

Dan sits at the foot of the toilet, like he’s been throwing up but the lid is down. Something tapas and scrapes on the ceramic, Ethan shutting the door behind them for privacy. 

“What do you want?” Dan whines apathetically, not turning to look at them which just makes Phil storm in his direction. 

“Daniel. I need the truth. For once in your life can you just tell me the truth about something?” Dan twists his neck, his top lip white and powdery. He’s as bloodshot as humanly possible, his eyebrows twitching in anger. But in a weird way he’s murky, his eyes don’t shine anymore. 

“Shoot.” Phil doesn’t react, swiping the powder off the toilet seat in one motion. Dan blinks, shaking with rage, “I really can’t have anything, can I?”

“Why is PJ wearing your shirt? What unique circumstance can you provide this time?” Phil squats down to where Dan is sitting, the mangled hand serpentining under his chin. 

“PJ fucked my roommate, okay?” Phil isn’t satisfied with this answer. 

“So, PJ fucks your roommate and just decides to borrow your clothes? Why doesn’t he just borrow Ethan’s clothes?” Ethan isn’t sure that he’s comfortable with his name being tossed around in this conversation. 

“Uh- I’m much shorter, and I have a very limited wardrobe.” He doesn’t know if he’s helping, but it’s definitely the truth. Dan buckles with a brief look of relief, Phil’s lips tensing with disdain. 

“Ethan, it’s okay. He’s not gonna stop until I tell him what he wants to hear.” 

The room falls silent and PJ flattens himself against the wall like he’s preparing to get away from Phil as far as possible. In any other circumstance this would look funny but there’s no comic relief right now. Everything is fucked up and Ethan doesn’t know how he’s stepped into it. 

“Dan, you don’t have to-“ Dan looks like he’s either about to burst into tears or burst out laughing. There’s a smile of crimson gums, a guiltless embrace of emotion. 

“Me and PJ fuck- we fuck aaall the time, at most twice a week he comes to my room after track and field- he fucks me- no. WE fuck together, I participate. There, happy now?!” The words bubble up from the intense mixture of whatever is happening in his brain. Phil doesn’t say anything, he just walks out the room. 

“I wanna go home now.” PJ looks antsy, he hasn’t really had a chance to process any of this and he still looks very switched on. He’s stone cold sober, but he’s not acting. Something about this is very real to PJ, it’s simmering between his ears like a dull snare.

“I want to stay, I’m ready to party.” 

“Dan, what is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?! What’s wrong with you? You can’t keep your dick in your pants for half a second.” Dan stands up, licking the powder off his hand and walking over to PJ, “so let’s party, yeah? Or are you gonna flake on me too?” PJ exhales dryly. 

“Look Dan, I really just can’t be arsed to do this right now-“

“Can’t be arsed to do this, or me? Very simple PJ.” He leaves, disappearing into the anonymity of the party. They can’t let him go out there alone, so they follow. Some loud hypnotic dance track rattles the walls, Dan’s dancing like he’s trying to shake the devil out of him. His shirt is baggy and loose, the thin fabric bouncing up and down to the rhythm of the music. And naturally some random dude’s hands are all over him. 

Ethan doesn’t understand it, how someone can be such a mess but so desirable, so perfectly out of reach. He looks like he’s having the best time of his life, despite having effectively broken up with his boyfriend 30 seconds ago.

“Eth, I really don’t feel like this is a good idea. Why did we come here? Why did he bring us here?” Ethan hadn’t considered that until PJ said it. Why does Dan want them here?

“He’s coked up man, I’m not sure he even knows. Maybe he just didn’t want to be alone when he told Phil.” They pretty much have to yell at each other over the music, so PJ scoots in closer. He wraps his hand around the back of Ethan’s neck and whispers into his ear. 

“Dan, he might not look it, but he’s dangerous. He’s too beautiful for his own good, and when people know they have that kind of power- well they become cold. They forget they’re people. He just gets whatever he wants all the time, I’m so sick of it,” the bitterness is thick in his voice, it’s physical. Ethan can feel it prickle and pop again his eardrum, the tension building in his slacks, “maybe losing Phil, the one person who really cares about him… Maybe he can be sentient again, he won’t be possessed by his ego.” 

“So? You just don’t care about him?” He can hear PJ swallow, his wet tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth like peanut butter. 

“It’s more than that,” he speaks, definitely sounding scared. “I’m scared of what I’ll do to him…” His breath is hot against Ethan’s skin, the smell alone driving him insane. 

“C-Could you elaborate?” His lungs deflate, his blood turning to ice. Pins and needles flood the site where PJ touches him. 

“I’m afraid, if he comes too close to me… I’ll savage him, I’ll tear him apart. I can’t let it happen.” 

Ethan feels like throwing up. 

“PJ, is this- you’re playing right? This is some kind of kink thing-“

“Yeah sure. I guess,” he trails off, making Ethan wait for him to say more. 

“I think I’m gonna leave, I need some fresh air,” Ethan doesn’t stop to wait for PJ to respond, which he’ll probably regret but he doesn’t care. He needs to get out.

The further he gets from the party the more sane he feels. The cold air from outside the complex soothes his boiling skin and he massages his abdomen. There’s so much tension, it’s like his stomach has hardened and congealed, like it’ll never move again. 

He leans up against the wall, closing his eyes and trying to forget what PJ said. He can’t help but wonder what it’s like to be Dan, to be so wanted and so hated at the same time. There must be a lot of things he doesn’t know about his roommate. 

“Good party?” His eyes snap open, the velvety smooth tone can only be one person. 

“No, it wasn’t- I don’t think I want to be here anymore.” Mark comes forth from out of the shadows, basking in the orange glow of the security light, “and I don’t think I want to talk to you either.” 

“Oh Ethan, you’re not gonna throw away a scholarship on some boy trouble?” 

“Don’t minimise my problems like you haven’t been stirring shit up,” Ethan clenches his jaw, hurt flashing in his eyes, “I was normal before I came here, I had god, I had my pills, I had all my Christian friends. Hell I even had God.”

“So PJ told you?” Mark wipes a lock of hair out of his eye faux-casually, “look, I didn’t mean any trouble okay?”

“Trouble? You sent someone to fuck me.” 

The two pause for a minute.

“What?” Mark’s face drops, the cool guy act dissolving into the fog, “Ethan I didn’t do that, you didn’t have to do that-“

“What then? You sent PJ to braid my hair and play monopoly with me? You didn’t think about what you were doing when you sent an alpha my way? Cut the shit Mark.” Mark looks very nervous, massaging the back of his neck in an attempt to self-soothe. 

“Don’t go Ethan, please. Don’t go because of this.” Ethan scoffs at Mark’s attempt to care, turning to go back inside. Mark grabs his wrist, pulling back to face him, “let me make it up to you, please. I feel terrible.”

“How could you possibly do that? Things are all messed up, with my roommate and his boyfriend, and with PJ who doesn’t even care about me or anyone else.”

“I’ll let you crash at mine, at least until things blow over with Dan, okay? Could I do that for you?” A small, desperate plea escapes the older man. 

“Mark,” Ethan pulls his arm away, “why are you here? It’s a Friday night and you’re outside my apartment building.” 

It seems he doesn’t have much to say to this. 

“That’s what I thought, you’re like thirty and you came to see me because you fucked up. If you’re not gonna tell me what’s going on, just leave me to pray.” He turns away to leave for real this time, setting foot into the musty landing. As the door closes he hears his voice once more. 

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since this morning.”


End file.
